


A Demon, A Devil, a Doll

by Dement0



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of past abuse/suicide, Multi, OCs everywhere, Slow Burn, asshole deacon but not really, deacon has mixed feelings about synths, how do tags work, im so bad at fanfiction/first ao3 story pls be nice, shaun isnt hers, she hated nate, young sole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 15:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11558400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dement0/pseuds/Dement0
Summary: He gave her a look, something that was unarguably sympathetic as the lights went out, barn doors shutting loudly behind him, and she was left alone, bruised and bleeding.She wished she had never entered that damn vault.Story in which Sole wakes up 12 years earlier, and encounters the UP Deathclaws.





	1. It Can't Rain All The Time

**Author's Note:**

> Please be gentle, I'm not much of a writer, but I love this idea.  
> We never really figure out Deacons age, but I figure he's mid thirties, making him his early twenties in this. I'm not really sure how to write 'violent bigot' Deacon, because it's hard to see him as anything but a silly cinnamon role, so expect some inconsistencies, I'm working on it lmao

  She had wandered far past Fenway Park, no, _Diamond City_.  She had somehow made her way to the coast, not paying attention to where her feet had dragged her. Shaun wouldn't be there anyways, she had assured herself.  She wasn't even sure if she wanted to find him, but she refused to dwell on that thought.  It made her heart ache that she could possibly be so cruel, and all of her justifications for her feelings did nothing to quell that, the fact that he wasn't hers, possibly in a better place...

  She shook her head. Why would anyone want to steal a child, why kill the woman holding him?  What did 'the backup' mean?  A chill ran up her spine, and she wrapped the ruined winter coat around her shoulders, turning to face the irradiated ocean to her left as the sun set. Waves lapped viciously at the shore as the wind picked up, the smell of rain hanging in the air. Codsworth had warned her that some storms were dangerous, though he hadn't specified what to look for besides a deep green sky.  She had yet to see one of those, but she didn't quite trust any rain in an rad-infested world, and set for a small fishing shack amid some other warehouses.

  The door was busted, hanging off one hinge, but it had four walls and a bedroll, more than she could say about the surrounding buildings. They were full of holes, with wet concrete floors filled with trash and shipping crates. A lantern lay on it's side on the floor, and it thankfully lit, casting a warm light inside the shack. She could make out some junk that littered the floor, the empty beer bottles, Psycho and busted Jet canisters were useless, but she did find a stack of magazines, as well as a cooler. One by one the magazines got tossed in the corner, faded porno mags and a Picket Fences issue, finally finding something readable at the bottom. Some Grognak, a Live & Love, enough to hopefully occupy her thoughts, keep them from drifting to her next issue - she had to go back to Diamond City. Hers or not, she couldn't leave a child with someone like that, she'd never forgive herself.  She would go to the city and hopefully find a lead. Someone had mentioned they even had a detective who was always willing to lend a hand, not that she really thought he'd be much help. Her only lead was that he was all scarred up and the woman wore some kind of quarantine outfit.

  Minutes later, nose buried in a magazine, she almost missed the voices outside the hut, quickly approaching.  She froze, hand immediately reaching to turn the lantern off, quietly dropping her comic to shift to the wall out of view of the window.  They didn't sound angry, they were cackling about something, younger guys it seemed.  However, the closer they got, the more she could understand. They were laughing about harassing someone, synth? What was a synth?

 "Did you see him piss himself? Can they even do that?" One snorted, and was met with a serious, "they can do anything we can, except feel, of course."

 "Anything'll piss when you hold a brand near it's face."

 Her stomach churned, were they raiders?

_'Synth...synthetic? Are they torturing robots?'_    That made her feel a little better, while she didn't agree with it, people screwed with bots all the time. Threw rocks at Protectrons, used an Eyebot as a giant baseball, it didn't mean they were murderers.

 She held her breath as the footsteps stopped right outside the hut, two of the three voices still chuckling.

 "Sken, grab some from the stash. We can take it back to my place, celebrate a little."

 "Ah, I mean, my moms gonna wonder where I am-"

 "So check in and then come get fucked up, or are you getting soft on us? Grab the shit, some Psycho, and a bottle of Daytripper." the sterner one interrupted, and her heart went wild in her chest.

 What should she do? Announce herself so she doesn't startle them into putting a slug into her chest? The pondering didn't matter, the busted door already swinging open to reveal a thin man, looking just as surprised as she did. Behind him, the bigger guy scowled, cursing at her.  

"The fuck? Some junkie stealing our stash?"

 She raised her hands, standing slowly "No, no, I didn't take anything, I was just looking for shelter. I'm sorry, I'll leave."

 The taller one barged in, seizing her by the arm to get a look at her face, eyes ablaze with anger.

 "She's kinda cute, actually." the shorter one commented, flicking on the lantern she had previously used.

 "She looks weird, too clean, too soft." the man in her face growled.

 "You think she's a synth?"

 "Maybe, real people don't look like _that_." one leered from the doorway.

 "What's a synth?" she asked quietly. She didn't think they had heard her over themselves until his grip tightened painfully, and she clenched her jaw to avoid crying out.

 "Well, I think that's an answer. Everyone knows what a fuckin' synth is, think we're stupid?"

 She pleaded, repeated she really had no idea, but they had stopped listening. He began to drag her and she panicked, falling to dead weight and trying to jerk out of his grip. One from behind her gave her a hard kick to her back that had her crying out, but she didn't move. Whatever they had planned for her, she wasn't going to make it easy, her body wouldn't let her anyways, her legs light lead weights beneath her.  The biggest one growled in frustration, the sound very animal in nature, and snatched up some rope hanging from a doorknob, turning to face her with a combat knife in hand. He didn't have to say anything, simply waving it in her face got the point across. She held her hands out in defeat, the rope biting painfully into her wrists as he tightened them with a grin. It began to rain then, the drizzle turning into a light pour.

 They lead her across a field, disturbingly quiet as she was drug along. The area that had been nothing but shacks and decrepit warehouses slowly turned into something more urban. They must be at the edge of downtown Boston. Not far off, she could see light. _A settlement?_ That had to be where they were going, it was the only thing that looked inhabited nearby.

"Yo Nathan! Take a look at what we found." One shouted, and her eyes quickly scanned the dark for whoever they were calling to, falling onto a partially obscured form facing away from them.

 They walked a few more steps, stopping next to a barn with a dim light washing over them, giving her a chance to study the man as he approached them. He was dressed like some kind of greaser, leather jacket, jeans, russet hair in a pompadour with a pair of sunglasses propped atop his head. He gave her a look, not predatory like the others, but also not one that said he was friendly. She tried to plead with her eyes, hoping maybe this man was sane, but he looked away, addressing the men holding her captive instead.

"I didn't know we were bringing them home now, what's the occasion, Jet?"

_'Bringing them home now. He's one of them.'_ She held her head up high, listening intently.

"Found her at the shack, probably getting doped up on our stash. Besides, look at her. Think we can have a little more fun than just smacking her around. What do you think?" she didn't have to look up to know that he had a disgusting grin on his face, sick glee dripping in his tone.

Her heart sank, torture was one thing, but... She wanted to vomit, tears welling up in her eyes as she fought the urge to struggle. She caught something cross Nathans face, a flash of disgust that was gone as soon as it had appeared, and there was that stupid hope again.

"Didn't know we were screwing them now, boss." Then it was gone. If she wasn't so terrified, she'd be furious.

One snorted, "Hey, we found out they got the plumbing, might as well make use of it."

More laughing, but Nathan stayed quiet.  She then felt the grip tighten again, and she was being dragged inside. Her panic welled up inside of her again, a shout falling out of her mouth before she could contain it.

"Have it your way, man. Lock her in, we got shit to do for now." Jet ordered, passing her off to the shorter man Nathan had greeted as Dio.  His hands immediately found her waist, and she jerked away, tripping and falling into the hay that covered the barn floor as she began to hyperventilate.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We won't leave you hanging too long." He knelt down and winked, his grin showing off his broken, yellowed teeth. He leaned in, eyes closing and she reared back, head slamming full force into his nose. He shouted, hands flying up to his face as blood began flowing down his face.

"Yo-you fucking bitch." He growled, large hands moving from his face to reveal his crooked nose, and moved to her throat.

The shout had gathered the other three's attention, rushing in to find Dio perched above her body, punches raining down on her as his own blood mixed with the blood welling from her lip. Jet rushed forward, cursing and grabbing Dio by the collar, ripping him off of her.

"Look what you did, she looks like shit." He snapped in annoyance.

She faintly heard Nathan chuckle, weakly moving her head to the side to catch a glance.

"She got you good, man."

_'Damn right.'_

Dio's glare moved from her, to him, but he said nothing more as he was ushered out of the barn.

 She laid on the ground uselessly, weak and fatigued, watching the ginger as he was last to leave. He gave her a quick glance, something that was unarguably sympathetic, and hit the lights, the heavy barn doors slamming shut behind him.

She was alone. Alone, bloodied, and bruised in some barn that smelled like cow shit, waiting for whatever these people had in store for her.

She curled up, busted lip quivering as her body shook with quiet sobs, the rain now pounding loudly on the roof as it poured outside.

She wished she had never woken up, never entered that goddamn vault.


	2. Never Had No One Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a slight idea of where this is going, but not really. I'm kinda just figuring this out as I go along and hoping it all comes together ;-;  
> also, random quotes and song titles that make no sense as chapter titles ftw

  She exhaled through her nose into the reeking hay she laid face down in, now quiet. She strained to listen for any noises past the wild thump of her heart in her chest, but all was quiet aside from the steady drum of rain. It had softened, no longer sounding like hail on the tin roof, though it did little to calm her nerves. She was waiting for them to return, to finish what they started, and it left her terrified, anxiety thrumming though her body.  Shifting against her restraints, she growled in frustration as they rubbed her wrists raw, the pain shooting up her arms and forcing her to go limp again. There had to be something in here, maybe a rusted pipe she could use to dig into the ropes on her wrists. That even working was a stretch, but it was better to try than to just lay there doing nothing. 

She sat back on her heels, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to see _something,_ to no avail. She would have to feel her way around or wait until morning. A moment of pondering, and she was shuffling across the hay, feeling for a wall to give her some sort of grounding. 

"H-hello?" 

She stiffened, listening intently but hearing nothing. The sound had been so soft, she wasn't sure she had really heard a thing. A few seconds passed before she could hear shifting in the straw from the far back of the structure.

"I uh, I don't mean any harm. I'm not like them?" the voice stuttered, a complete lack of confidence in his statement, though it sounded more pathetic than suspicious. He didn't sound like he could be any older than her, maybe even younger.

"They captured you too?" her voice hardly carried above the rain, still terrified, confused. She wondered if he even heard her.

"Are you a synth too?"

 _Synth._ Her hair stood on end. The men had said they were dangerous. Images of old Sci-fi movies she had just so recently seen danced in the dark, destructive robots with weapons and a lack of empathy, lack of emotions...

Yet she had just spoken to one without noticing anything strange. No robotic buzz in his voice, he soundly soft, scared, human. How dangerous could he be if a couple of thugs could keep him locked in a ramshackle barn anyways? All she was restrained by was some rope, so that ruled out being some kind of  _Terminator._

"I'm not...what's a synth?" 

A noise of confusion met her ears, and her cheeks grew hot.  _'Guess it really is common knowledge then.'_

"They're...we're synthetic beings. Y'know...flesh and bone, personalities. We're not the bad guys, like they say. Not all of us at least. They just don't like us, but we really don't wanna bother anyone, we're just trying to live our lives."

That...was a short sentence with a lot to process. She shifted uncomfortably, "So you aren't robots?"

"No! no...well, some are...earlier versions, but synths like me, no."

"Then why do they hate you so much? They were talking about torture" her throat tightened with the word, and the boy's following speech tumbled quickly from his mouth.

"They just don't understand us, think we're out to harm them because of the Institute paranoia, but we don't-" he stopped suddenly, and she blinked in the darkness. A few beats of silence passed before she spoke up.

"Yeah?" she called out hesitantly, and got a whimper in response.

"I can't...I don't think I should talk about that. I can't." he ended his statement in a whisper and said no more.

 Her mouth opened to apologize, but she thought better of it. Instead, she focused on what little she had gotten out of him. The word 'Institute' seemed to be the trigger for his shutdown.  
She had heard of them once or twice on her travels, the word spoken in hushed tones with paranoid stares. It still made no sense, she had no idea what 'Institute paranoia' meant, and he clearly wasn't about to tell her. It sounded like the people up here were just scared of technology. _That_ made sense, considering almost 200 years after the war most people lived in shacks with a single water pump, shooting each other for no reason. 

Hardly a satisfying conclusion, as it only made her more frustrated.  _'Torturing people out of ignorance...'_

"Hey, how long have you been in here?" she tested, rising to her knees while listening to any type of response. It wasn't the best thing to talk about, but maybe the change in subject would get a word out of him.

"About...two days. W-what are you doing?" he sounded startled as she wobbled awkwardly across the damp ground, using his voice as a guide to his position. 

"I don't want anyone listening in, and yelling across a barn isn't helping that." A patch of light filtered in from a hole outside, and plopped down in the middle of it, thankful to finally see something, even if it was the filth covered jeans she had scavenged and absolutely hated.

Next to her, she could tell he had stiffened, and she turned to give him a small, apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"'s fine." he simply mumbled, staring at the rotting wall next to him.

In the reflected light, she could make out some features on his face, the deep worry lines and matted hair in particular. He was also shirtless, and something stained his protruding ribs, what she could only assume was blood. She made her study brief, he was already uncomfortable enough without a strange girl staring him down, but it was enough to conclude how _familiar_ he looked. Like an old friend, soft and sweet, undeserving of cards he was dealt. Another person lost to the war, with no one to remember him on the other side but her. She wondered what might have happened to him, instead of dying in the blast, maybe he made it to a vault. A normal one, like Vault 88. She could only hope.

Despite his own sorry state, his face contorted in concern as he finally turned to face her, staring intently.

"Is it that bad?" she snapped out of her daze, cringing, wishing she could feel for the damage and gauge the swelling. Treating it would be nice, too, but that would be asking too much right now. 

"I'm just scared. These men...they don't hold anything back. I don't want to see what they might do to you, to me..." she noticed him shudder and her heart twisted. He looked absolutely ragged, and she didn't even want to imagine what his time here had entailed and certainly didn't want to find out for herself. Her mind drifted back to the idea of escape, if anything in the barn could be of use. She glanced at him, his leg bouncing as he lost himself in thought. She had railed him a bit on the questions, and frowned guiltily. She wanted to give him some time to recoup, but she wasn't sure how much of that they had.

"So...what's your name?" she asked.

"M-my name? Erm, H2-22." he avoided her eyes.  She chewed her lip, still not quite wrapping her head around all of this. She didn't think she was going to understand it all anytime soon, anyways.

"You don't get names?"

He shook his head lamely, turning to face her shyly as she inquired him again.

"Do I want a name? I never really thought about it, no one asked. I don't...what do you think would fit?"

She already knew, it was in her head before she even thought of the question. He almost appeared hopeful as he watched her, and the name flew out of her mouth before she could really give it thought.

"How's Ryan sound? It's a pretty cool name, don't you think?"

He smiled, it was small and brief, but she caught the slightest hint of it as he blushed, nodding. 

"My name is...Autumn, it's nice to meet you, Ryan."

He smiled wider, and she mirrored it, split lips and all.

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda had no intentions of continuing but I got kudos so I'm kinda like yeah let's go :> I know this is super short and dialogue heavy but gotta split them chapters up for suspense and all that writing jazz I know nothing about, so maybe new one soon ya?   
> also how do u write nervous speech without being repetitive lmao
> 
> also, fun fact, Ryan Alosio (Deacons voice actor) also voices H2-22. c:

**Author's Note:**

> pls be gentle  
> Next chapter will have more Deacon, still figuring out how I want to write him. He was complicated to write/understand to begin with.  
> I was also very tired when I wrote this, I probably come back and make some changes, add some stuff.  
> Thanks for reading, comments are appreciated c:


End file.
